


Can't Be Broken

by Tabithian



Series: Crooked Hearts [4]
Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side Stories and the whatnot in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/286056">Crooked Hearts AU</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Be Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of stuff Jason never got the chance to do, _before_.
> 
> Like.
> 
> Everything, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an [an exchange with Clarityhiding](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/50900869).

There's a lot of stuff Jason never got the chance to do, _before_.

Like.

Everything, really.

The hell of it is, after he comes back to Gotham. Really gets his head on straight it takes him a while to realize that hey, why the fuck not get started on that now?

He's got money – okay, he's got _Bruce's_ money – same thing, really.

It's a little bit of game with them, in a way.

Jason hacks Bruce's accounts, pulls what he needs out of them until Bruce catches on and puts a stop to it, and then they do it all over again.

Bruce probably thinks of it as some some kind of training, or who the hell knows, because the longer it goes on the higher the difficulty spike gets. For Jason or the Replacement - both, probably, knowing the way Bruce works.

Jason gets this warm little feeling of satisfaction every time he gets access to one of Bruce's accounts. Not really anything like a _fuck you_ to Bruce, but.

Kind of, yeah. 

Possibly a bit of teenage rebellion, or maybe Jason's just that much of an asshole.

Whatever else it is, it pays for the rent on the shitty little apartment Jason comes closest to calling home. For Jason's gear and shiny bits of tech and equipment he's gotten set up in Gotham all nice and cozy now that Talia's stepped back to let Jason figure out the rest on his own.

Little things like _this_.

Jason coming to this coffee stand at the edge of a quaint little shopping plaza with tables and benches set up for people to take a moment to themselves. 

He's been coming here couple times a week for a while now. Orders the daily special written up in colored chalk on the sign on in front of the coffee stand because it's bound to be something interesting.

Always some weird combination of flavors that were never meant to be put together, or something he thinks might almost be worth the price. Nothing's hit him yet in a way that he thinks, _Okay, yes, I could stand to order this more than once, it's not complete shit_ , but who knows, maybe one day.

It's.

It's weird, sometimes, when he thinks about it.

Taking the time to discover what he likes and doesn't like, and not just in regards to overpriced coffee that's oh so trendy and _in_.

Weird, because he never bothered to find out, before. 

Just stole mugs of coffee from Bruce, or Dick when Alfred wasn't looking. Drank it the way they liked it, maybe made a face because it was too bitter or sweet, or _something_ , depending on the mood they were in. He only complained the expected amount because Alfred was all over him when he found out.

Concerned it would stunt his growth, and so on and so on. Jason would listen to Alfred's little lecture with a suitably chastened expression while Bruce or Dick acted like they didn't think it was hilarious. Like Alfred never gave them the same one when they were younger, and Jason.

He felt.

It was nice, knowing Alfred cared enough to lecture him on things like that. This little gleam in his eye that said he knew Jason was only humoring him in order to stay in his good graces, and then he'd make tea just for the two of them. 

_”Proper British tea, young sir, not what you Americans consider tea._ ”

So Jason experiments with stupidly overpriced coffee and spends time people watching. Business people and harried interns. The handful of college kids on their way to classes, high school kids _skipping_ classes.

It's something to do, anyway. Fill his time up when he's not harassing Bruce and the others, being a fucking pain in their collective asses.

Figuring out what the hell to do with himself now that he has the time to do it. (Kind of terrifying, really, learning who the hell he _is_.)

“Pardon me, but would you happen to have the time?”

Jason looks over to where this kindly looking grandmotherly type is staring down at him, shrewd look in her eyes. The grip she has on her cane tightens as the seconds tick past without Jason answering.

She's something of a regular here. 

Shows up with some friends and orders the same thing every time from the barista, tips the same amount and sits at the same table.

Has, Jason knows, been watching Jason the last few minutes, like she's realized he's there a fair bit himself.

Looking a little rough for this part of town, definitely. Always picks a table every time with a good line of sight to the row of shops on the other side of the plaza.

“Young man?”

Jason feels the corner of his mouth pull up in something like a smile as he holds out his arm and pulls his sleeve up to reveal a bare wrist.

“Not wearing a watch, sorry,” he says, keeping his tone light, friendly, even as the woman's eyes narrow slightly. “But going by that, it's half-past.”

Jason gestures towards the bell tower in the center of the plaza, all dark red brick and bronze bells topped off with a clock.

The woman taps her cane on the ground one-two-three times before nodding her head sharply. 

“Thank you, young man,” she says, grudgingly almost, as she turns to head back to the table her friends are seated at across the way. 

Jason watches to make sure she gets there okay, and when she looks back at him, _smiles_.

He's too far away to hear what she says to that, irritated look falling over her face, but he can read her lips just fine.

_Ruffian._

Jason laughs, because _really_ , and picks up his stupidly expensive coffee and tips it in her direction in some douchebag salute before taking a sip.

Cold, now, and he's not sure he's a fan of pumpkin spice, but.

Camouflage, or something like that, because it's half-past, which means - 

Jason looks over at the faint sound of bells, light, chiming, and sees a familiar figure stepping out of one of the shops across the way.

Tall, lean, impeccably dressed, dry cleaning in hand as he makes his way to one of the cars parked along the street.

The real reason Jason's here, even if expanding his palette regarding ridiculously overpriced coffee is a bonus.

Because Alfred runs errands like this, dropping off and picking up the dry cleaning for Bruce and the others. Does the grocery shopping, any number of other little things necessary for running a house like that.

And Jason.

Christ, Jason misses Alfred in ways he doesn't miss Bruce or Dick or Barbara, because.

Well, because _Alfred_.

Always in the periphery of this little war of Bruce's for all that he's so much a part of it. This voice of reason, sanity, they never did learn to listen to much as they should have.

Jason's seen Bruce and the others since he came back. 

Got...acquainted with the Replacement in a manner everyone would probably rather he hadn't, but Alfred.

Christ.

Alfred is all the things Bruce and the others aren't, always saw things even Bruce couldn't, and it's.

Jason's talked to him, since he came back to Gotham, sure. Gotten Alfred on his side in order to make Bruce's life just that much more difficult, but.

This.

Learning how to be a real boy again and not just some. Some _soldier_ in Bruce's war, or whatever the Pit and Talia helped turn him into, what Jason thought he wanted to be, _after_.

It's.

Jason doesn't know what it is, exactly.

Just that it's hard, and it hurts, because Jason doesn't know what the hell he's doing and it's not like he has the best track record in this kind of thing.

For the moment he's falling back on the things Bruce taught him, trained into him. Things Talia had taken and honed, _sharpened_ , trying to figure out where the hell he goes from here.

Like he knows he's being watched, Alfred pauses as he's putting the dry cleaning in the car, looks around for a brief moment before shaking his head and getting in the car and driving away.

Jason makes a face when he realizes he's staring, and downs the rest of his coffee before getting up to leave.

He passes the old woman on her way, grins at the sour look on her face.

“Have a nice day, ma'am,” he says, and gets an indignant little huff and another muttered, _ruffian_ in return.

 _Indeed_ , Jason thinks, strangely fond. _Indeed._


End file.
